When did i become someone nobody wanted around but who is toleranted for reasons I don’t understand. I’m kinda useful sometimes. Because they can’t just kill me I guess.

All I do is think so I was thinking about this and how quiet I was outside my home as a kid how I can recall the very first time a teacher told the class in kindergarten that if there was something we didn’t understand we should raise our hand and ask and how I immediately knew I was never going to be the one raising their hand I didn’t want to use my voice I didn’t want to bother the teacher. I knew also that I had some trouble with numbers specifically and how I’ve let that go unaddressed my whole life and I just don’t understand why I never asked for help. And why was I never the one to talk to other children it was always others coming to me first. I would follow others around and agree with them and keep to myself. Decisions were hard. They still are frankly. And then I was suddenly a very angry child and I would destroy things and slam doors and pull my own hair and a very vivid incident I remember where I used a sharpie to black out my classmates faces on three different class photos and I can’t tell you why I did that I have no idea what I was feeling at six and seven I do not remember but I was a really angry child. I received counseling maybe three times and the psychologist said you have an anger problem and that’s all I remember. When I asked my mother about this she said she never took me to any psychologist she doesn’t remember. Elementary school was weird because most children were rich-ish and i wasnt and they were normal and smart and i wasnt. still i had a couple of friendships that lasted but even then i clearly didnt fit in. The girls were such Girls and it seemed to come naturally to them when i struggled to get my hair to stay in a ponytail most days and they smelled good and they couldnt wait until they could start wearing makeup and then my dad died and if i wasnt before i became a fucking alien. I had a very sweet sixth grade teacher she was really involved with us and by this time there wasnt a day my mother didnt come home angry and i knew she hated the sight of me ill never forget the day i called my teacher crying and told her i really loved her and that i wished she could adopt me and be my mom. So i guess the desperation and attachment started early. And I don’t know where I’m going with this but I think maybe I was in fact born a bit wrong and it wasn’t all on my neglectful sometimes violent mother and my father dying though that probably made it worse. I’ve never gotten the impression that people wanted me around I’m either needy and obsessed or don’t care at all or less so now but angry all the time. I’m surprised now by all the people that did seem to like me looking back. I’ll never understand it. I’ve only been one person’s consistent first choice and now I know it’s because they were in love with me. For like at least a decade. Can’t compute that. Unlovely me. Living has been difficult being arpund other people has consistently been a task for as far as i can remember. You get good at routine you repeat the motions and once you are out of school it’s easier thats for sure. But living is still difficult. Trying to describe the indescribable here. I suppose I just don’t want to be here. Having to do all the things over and over again for who knows how many years sounds like torture. It’s already harrowing. Fifty or sixty more years of this? There’s no comfort in that. Oh I’m going through these kleenex like a teenage boy who just discovered online porn. People look forward to things and they find comfort in that even if times are hard but I have nothing. And there will be nothing. My life is the dictionary definition for meaningless. I noticed a lack of exciment for the things I like coming and going it fluctuates a lot. It isnt the same. Being in bed is agonizing even though it’s the only thing I want to do. What then? What’s there for me?

I think I should’ve died as a baby when the umbilical cord was choking me to death. Doctor should have let me die and given me the gift of mercy.